


(Don't) Cry Me a River

by Enk



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Biting, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:14:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enk/pseuds/Enk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hikaru Sulu leaves the Enterprise. Jim Kirk attempts to cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Don't) Cry Me a River

**Author's Note:**

  * For [what_alchemy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_alchemy/gifts).



(Don’t) Cry Me A River

Deep down inside, Jim wants someone to ask so he can let out whatever it is that keeps gnawing on his insides. He can't pinpoint it, but it’s there whether he wakes or sleeps. He figures the feeling will pass. However, after a week it still hasn't. Neither social nor work distractions seem to be successful. No matter how many reports he gets ahead on, how many evenings he passes playing chess with Spock; playing raquetball with Pavel; or getting cleaned out in poker with Cupcake and the rest of security (he’s silently glad when Cupcake feigns having to go to bed before he loses the last pieces of his uniform); he can’t shake the gnawing. On a night spent alone, Jim finds himself turning back to an old friend: Jack Daniels. A few shots in, he finds himself in his pajamas in front of Bones's quarters, ringing the chime a few times more than he needs to. He's only a quarter into the bottle, it's all good.

  
"God damnit, Jim!" Bones opens the door in slacks. "Do you possess any impulse control at all?!" But his eyes soften when he sees Jim, and Jim isn't sure he likes that.

  
"Started drinking alone, but that seemed like a stupid idea." He holds up the bottle. "We have come to join you."

  
"Well," Bones looks at the bottle, "at least it's not some moonshine you cooked up in your quarters. Come in."

  
And this is when Jim realizes why Bones McCoy is his best friend. He doesn't ask questions but pours two shot glasses and swigs them both back before pouring two more and handing one to Jim. "Do you want to talk about it or should I pour another?" Jim waves him off and Bones doesn't ask again. It would be no use; both of them know Jim would just walk away, withdraw or come on to Bones just to get out of talking. So instead, they drink, talk about completely unrelated things until they slur about them. The night ends in a fit of laughter and with Jim passed out on Bones's couch. When Jim returns the next night, Montgomery opens Bones's door.

  
"Ahh, you're late, lad." He smells of some sort of alcohol, but his speech and eyes are clear. "Bones and I decided to teach you the finer points of alcohol." He takes the bottle of Jack and tosses it into the recycler. "Upon further inspection, you both drink horse's piss, goat's piss at best. Now here," he holds up a bottle, "this is non-replicated, 200 year old Longmorn Scotch, original glass bottle. Proper for the Captain of a starship, his doctor, and brilliant engineer to drink." He nods and pours three glasses, glaring when Jim asks for ice.

  
The night is a good one, filled once more with laughter and for a while, Jim thinks the constant gnawing finally is beginning to dissipate. Maybe friendship can heal all wounds, and maybe time is all he needs now. He smiles and takes another drink before the three of them burst into old naval shanties that Montgomery taught them a few hours before. It's a good night and ends with Jim waking up in a remote corner of Engineering with one boot on. His mouth tastes like ash and bile and his head is throbbing and for a few minutes, he isn't even sure where he is. Ah, yes, he remembers that feeling from many-a-night in Smalltown, Iowa. He's woken up to worse, in worse, and feeling worse. No one is naked beside him; there is no blood; and no one is talking, crying, or yelling at him. He drags himself to sickbay, one boot and all, and gets himself a shot from a rather quiet Bones to combat the persistent hangover. The hiss is followed by a few moments of blissful tingles in the back of his head as the pain and fog clear away. He's still missing a few hours, but that doesn't matter right now. What does matter, however, is the gnawing that returns to his gut as soon as his head is clear. Well fuck.

  
The duty shift comes and goes in a boring, bland blur he could do without. Nyota listens, Spock takes notes, Shannon looks bored, Pavel is either asleep with his eyes open or solving complex mathematical puzzles inside his head. The rest of the crew are in varying states of awake and all Jim can do is look forward to another night with his best friend, possibly Montgomery and another bottle of whatever the hell it was they were drinking last night. When the duty shift finally ends, they are not a single step closer to finding any sort of Romulan activity. Jim doesn't think as he's walking to his quarters, thinking seems to slow down the gnawing in his gut. He takes a shower and changes, shoes this time, not boots. For the first time in a long while, he puts on jeans. They're tighter than he remembers and maybe he should be on the prowl instead. He's in front of Bones's quarters before long, but there is no answer. He rings the chime again, nothing. When he tells the computer to look for him, he finds him placed in sickbay and when he inquires, Bones's on a duty shift because M'Benga had come down with a case of the Levodian Flu.

  
Jim doesn't want to return to his quarters, doesn't want to be alone with the gnawing. He makes the long trek to the bar at the far back of the ship. When they first embarked, it had been a superfluous rec space that the junior officers had turned into a small space to hang out with drinks which eventually turned into a bar which was not very often frequented by the senior officers. Jim sometimes would stop by, but he understood that the kids needed a place to chill together without the scrutinizing eye of their superiors. Not that Jim scrutinized anyone off-duty, but they were young officers even fresher out of the Academy than the senior officers were. He doesn't mind, a Captain should have some distance from his crew, some distance... and there was the gnawing again.

  
He likes the space; it is quiet, dark, lots of comfortable chairs and couches, a small bar in the corner where some of the crew's more alcoholic-ally talented members mixed together various ales and spirits accumulated during their travels. He grabs something random ('Surprise me' to the young woman behind the bar produced something fruity and delicious) and grabs one of the couches in the corner. He watches his crew, mingling, chatting, laughing and lets the sounds of the bar wash over him like white noise.

  
"Hey," a voice startles Jim out of a blank state, "this seat taken?" Jim wants to say no, but Shannon McKenna's smile is broad, confident, so he shakes his head.

Shannon slides another drink at Jim. "You look like you need company."

  
"Isn't that the job of a Captain?" Jim smiles.

And just like that, the world seems to fall back into place Well, perhaps not completely back into place but the night eases on with the drinks. And they talk, just about anything that comes to their mind, not the hopes and fears kind of talk, nothing deep or dark. It works. They spend no more than an hour together before they're laughing at each other’s jokes. When they're halfway to completely trashed, they call it a night. Jim does. Might as well not tempt a good thing, but somehow he walks Shannon home, continues their conversation but when they arrive at his quarters, they’re both quiet, an unspoken tension building between them as their words dropped away.

  
“This is me.” Shannon searches Jim’s face. “Want to come in?”

  
“Probably shouldn’t.” Jim wants to; wants to make the damned gnawing go away. “Captain stands alone and all that.”

  
Suddenly, they're close, so close Jim can feel Shannon's breath on his face. It would be so easy to bridge the last inch between them, so easy to tilt his head and capture Shannon's lips in a kiss. The man's eyes are dilated; face slightly flushed, clearly he's expecting it. And Jim's never been the kind of man who disappoints and for a brief moment, he wants to kiss Shannon, wants to kiss and forget the gnawing in his gut. When Shannon pushes him against the door, Jim inhales sharply, feels his dick twitch in his jeans.

  
He shouldn't feel so at ease, but there is something wicked in the man's smile and Jim’s been half hard since Shannon had joined him for a drink. He's not swept off his feet by bright green eyes or the faint spatter of freckles on Shannon's nose. He's not that easy, not for a wink and a smile, but Shannon leans close again and Jim hasn't had close in weeks. He fucking misses close. Shannon smiles at him again, hands propped up on either side of Jim's head.

  
"Perhaps it is the Captain's job to be alone, but..." his lips are so fucking close Jim can feel his breath, "...I believe you are off-duty right now.... Jim."

He drives it home with a damned kiss. Jim's not mad, the gnawing is growing fainter and when Shannon licks his mouth open, Jim moans into his mouth and the gnawing seems like the faint memory of a bad dream he once had. Jim kisses back. He wants close, needs close, needs something, anything and everything because he's still fucking alive and he's tired of feeling like he's not, like he has to mourn or some shit like that, like he's a fucking war widow. He's not sure where the anger comes from, but he grips Shannon with a growl and kisses him hard against the door. Their breath is hot when they separate, panting against each other. Jim slams his hand against the door mechanism and they almost fall into Shannon's quarters, tearing at each others' clothes on their way to the bed. They almost miss the edge of the bed when they sit and Shannon pulls Jim's shirt over his head and kisses his jaw and neck and shoulder, hands caressing Jim but it's not enough, it's not right.

  
"Not made of sugar." Jim moans, almost automatic when Shannon's hand works into his too-tight jeans.

  
"Mhm?" Shannon looks at him, puzzled. And fuck, he doesn't know. How could he, they've never done this before.

  
"Bite me." Because Jim wants to feel teeth, wants to have marks, wants to feel alive and remember for days after that he is. Shannon nods and bites his shoulder, but it's wrong, too hesitant, and cautious. So, Shannon’s mouth moves on. Jim knows he doesn't understand how Jim works, not like Hikaru did. Jim's breath catches. This is the first time he's thought of Hikaru by name since he left the Enterprise. The first time he thinks of Hikaru and his dick is in someone else’s mouth. The gnawing doesn't just return, it hollows his guts is one fell swoop and there is nothing Jim can do. He feels empty, defeated, and he hopes his moans don't sound as hollow to Shannon's ears as they sound to his. He comes, his face buried in the pillow, curses himself when he realizes he silently mouthed Hikaru's name.

  
“You look amazing.” He tries to pull Jim into a kiss, but Jim can’t, not when he feels like he’s going to drown on the emptiness inside him. He pulls away and before Shannon can say anything, he slides off the bed and winks.

  
“My turn,” he slides on his knees and licks his lips, like he wants it here.

 

Jim sucks Shannon while the man is standing. Seems that the guy has a thing for slapping his dick on people's faces. It’s a little off-putting but it makes it easy. So, Jim moans each time Shannon’s dick lands in his face, moans like he fucking wants it bad. He relaxes his throat when finally Shannon grabs his hair and fucks his mouth, pushes Jim's nose against his pubes. Jim looks up at Shannon with big eyes and licks his lips when the man jerks himself to orgasm and paints Jim's face with his come. He feels a little like he just filmed a porno, but reciprocity and all that.

  
"Fuck baby, you've got a great mouth." Shannon collapses onto the bed with a smile. Jim doesn't respond. His brain is working at light-speed. "Hey..." Jim startles when Shannon touches him. "I know this is a one off, but the night’s young and if you're up for it..." He trails off as he slides a finger between Jim's ass cheeks. And suddenly, Jim's brain has it figured out: the gnawing, the alcohol, Shannon, the guilt, the pain, the- god damn it, it's a broken heart.

  
“Sorry,” Jim smiles sad like he actually is. "It's been great but I've got a conference before duty shift tomorrow." He leans to kiss Shannon and feels bad for lying.

"Maybe another time." He feels really bad for lying but he doesn't want things to be awkward. Shannon nods and Jim wonders if he sees past his charade.

  
"No worries. Gotta be well-rested to handle brass." He grins and Jim's relieved he's being let off this easy. He dresses and discreetly wipes the last of Shannon’s come from his face.

  
"See you around, Shannon." Jim nods as he exits.

  
"Cheers, Kirk."

  
The hallways are empty and Jim is glad, the last thing he needs is to feel like he's on a walk of shame. He heads to Bones's quarters, hoping he's off-duty by now. Luck has it, Bones arrives at his quarters at the same time he does. He's wearing scrubs and not his uniforms, must have been a rough night.

  
"Hey," Jim leans against the wall.

  
"Jim..." Bones's face is concerned and Jim realizes that he probably still stinks of alcohol, sex, and sweat.

  
"I know." He's not sure what else to say. He sighs and shrugs.

  
"Come in."

  
Inside the quarters, Jim isn't sure what to do. He's feeling lost, sick to his stomach, he paces back and forth.

  
"I fucked up, Bones." He runs his hand through his hair breathing is hard, like he can't get enough air into his lungs.

  
"Jim, come on. You didn't fuck up. You both agreed."

  
They had. Sort of. Hikaru had been given an offer to train a crew of test pilots for Starfleet Intelligence which meant flying the latest classified vessels, training his own crew and an early promotion to Lieutenant-Commander. It was hard to pass up, but Hikaru wasn't sure if he should go. The Enterprise was still the flagship; he had the best crew in all of the Federation, and incredible friends he had been through hell with. Jim wanted to tell Hikaru  
not to go, wanted to push him against the closest wall and use his mouth to remind Hikaru what he has on this ship.

  
But he didn't.

  
He did not. Instead, he smiled and nodded and told Hikaru it was a great idea. Now, in retrospect, Jim realizes that Hikaru had still hesitated, given Jim an odd look before agreeing.

  
"He wanted me to stop him..."

  
"What?" Bones looks confused and Jim realizes he's probably been pacing and rambling half-finished sentences.

  
"He didn't want to leave. He wanted me to stop him and I failed." Jim sits on the couch looking utterly miserable. "Now he thinks I wanted him to leave."

  
"I'm not sure what to say, Jim, but it sounds to me like-"

  
"Like I'm an asshole? The guy who didn't realize a good thing when it was in front of his face?"

  
"Well, that’s not how I would put it but all right."

  
"I don't know how to fix this." Jim's voice is small and he leans against Bones. "I lost the only good thing in my life."

  
"Fuck you, Jim." Bones doesn't move away from Jim, but he does smack him in the gut. "You're not me. You're not the guy who pities himself, drinking alone, growing bitter and old. You're the guy who's always balls to the wind, the guy who jumps off a platform without thinking to save someone he's barely known for a few hours. You don't give up. You never do, you're just having a hard time remembering that right now."

  
"You give the best pep talks, Bones." Jim snorts and rolls his eyes, but he’s leaning against Bones.

  
"Yeah well, it happens." He pats Jim on the back.

  
"I have to go hijack the ship now."

  
"Going to change course to go back to Regula-4 station?"

  
"And take a shower," Jim grins. "Thanks Bones. You are the best friend a man could have."

  
"Get out of here you god damned idiot!" Bones laughs.

  
When Jim sits down on his chair on the bridge a couple of hours later, showered, fed, and dressed in a clean uniform, he is smiling and he sees Nyota look away with one of her own. She probably knows what's coming and hey, it won't be too suspicious, taking the ship completely off course from their current trajectory quite possibly causing an interstellar incident if they don't get to their rendezvous coordinates on time. Vulcan ambassadors can wait. He'll soon enough have a pilot to fly the hell out of the ship to make it.

  
"Lieutenant." Jim feels bad that McKenna has just started his duty shift, "set course for Regula-4, maximum warp."

  
"Captain?" Spock raises an eyebrow.

  
"We've left behind one of our crew and we're going back to get him." Jim can see McKenna's face fall from the corner of his eyes, so he turns to look at Spock. He doesn't want to decipher whether it's because McKenna realizes his Alpha shift days are numbered or whether he'd hoped for a repeat performance of the previous night. Jim thinks it's probably the former.

  
"I see." Spock's lip quirks. Did everyone on this damn ship know before he did? Apparently so, because Pavel looks relieved as he plots the fastest course to Regula-4. They arrive in less than 36 hours, and the closer they get the more nervous Jim feels. He spends his off-duty time in Bones's quarters rambling ridiculous things at him. What if he misread Hikaru? What if he did want to go? What if he didn't like Jim that way? What if it was all about sex and Jim just became too attached? What if-

  
"God damnit it, Jim, if you don't shut up I'm putting you in stasis until we get there!" Bones finally snaps. "You're not a teenaged girl for fuck's sake! Quit acting like one! He sure as hell won't want you back like this!"

  
Jim snaps his mouth shut. He knows Bones is right, but he still glares at the man until there's a shot of something in his hand. He drinks. Bourbon. On second thought, he does hate Bones McCoy.

  
* * *

  
Regula-4 is a quiet station for its size. Not too many travel here and it is not a hub like say Deep Space K-7, but there are a couple bars, places to eat, a bordello, and an entertainment centre. It's predominantly a scientist crowd and rumour has it that Starfleet Intelligence is trying to train super-soldiers there due its continued presence. Their docking is questioned, of course because Jim needed another delay, but fortunately, Montgomery managed to find something wrong with the ship (Jim is fairly certain he broke it moments before they docked). There's a repair crew and two hours, Jim has two hours to find Hikaru and convince him to come back and Jim is almost running by the time he enters the station.

  
Sure, he could have asked, looked at the station's manifest to locate Hikaru Sulu's temporary quarters, but it seems much easier to just hack into the computer system and find Hikaru that way. The corridors are mostly deserted, station time is something like three o'clock in the morning and according to the computer, Hikaru Sulu is sitting in the Arboretum cafe. It's not hard to find, the top level with the giant cupola dome with a view of the stars. Of course he'd be there. Jim finds himself a maintenance entrance because he suddenly isn't feeling so comfortable. The 'What ifs' are trying to come back full force but he takes a deep breath and manages to calm himself. Get back the pilot, everything else will fall into place if it's meant to be, wise parting words Nyota gave him before he disembarked. She probably wants her best friend back more than she wants Jim to be happy.

  
Hikaru is sitting on a lounge chair by a carefully crafted pond staring up at the stars, an old-fashioned bottle of beer in his hand. Jim stands hidden by the trees and watches him for a while. He's not sure what to do now. Should he just stroll up and say 'Hello'? Part of him feels he should perhaps have planned this a little better. The Jim Kirk part of his brain tells that part to shut the fuck up, he'll take it from here. Before Jim realizes what he's doing, he's on his feet, moving out from the trees and crossing the distance between him and Hikaru in less time than he thought. When Hikaru notices him, his eyes widen, his mouth opens to say something, but Jim doesn't care, Jim doesn't want to hear any more words right now. One knee on the chair, he slides home, captures Hikaru with a kiss, a little triumphant when Hikaru gasps surprised into his mouth. It's not chaste or gentle, he can't do that, not right now. He kisses Hikaru; kisses him right and proper like he should have done when Hikaru first told him about the offer; kisses him like there's no more time left in the world and there are so many things he still has to say; kisses him like there is never going to be anyone else. And he knows he was right when Hikaru grips his shirt and pulls him closer.

  
"Took you enough fucking time," Hikaru gasps when they separate for air.

  
"I was an asshole," Jim can't stop kissing him, "I'm sorry. Didn't know what I had. Brain had stupid."

  
Hikaru laughs against the kisses, laughs. Jim hadn't heard that sound since the offer. All that tip-toeing around, all the doubts, all the grief, the gnawing, they all seem like a ridiculous, far away thing now. Jim pulls Hikaru up, looks around, there's no one else in sight, but still he takes Hikaru's hand and pulls him into the trees where curious eyes can't spot them as easily. They end up with Hikaru leaning against the trunk of a tree with a large overhanging crown and Jim continues to shower Hikaru's face and neck with kisses until Hikaru pushes him away and for a moment, Jim's heart sinks.

  
"Wait," Hikaru is flushed and clearly would much rather do everything but wait, but he's forcing himself to talk, "why did you come back?"  
Ah yes, they still have to talk about that. Jim assumes kissing didn't quite convey that and left them somewhere between a goodbye fuck and some sort of love thing. Jim's never been good with the L-word. Not even now.

  
"I almost let McKenna fuck me."

  
"Almost?" Hikaru's eyebrow is half raised, like he needs more information to decide on whether or not to shove Kirk into the pond. Jim shrugs. He probably shouldn't have said anything.

  
"He's not you," Jim says, quietly almost wishing Hikaru can't hear him. They've never been good with words, but it's what ended them up here, so maybe they need to try today.

  
"Yeah, he's not," Hikaru watches Jim and for a second there, Jim thinks he sees an inkling of jealousy, but he's not sure. "You're really that oblivious, huh?" Jim shrugs and feels Hikaru's arms pull him back close. "You're an idiot, James." Hikaru kisses him, it's slow this time and Jim shivers despite himself, mesmerized that he'd ever feel this way. It's slow, languid, like they have all the time in the world for eternity. They don't, they have 72 minutes, but Jim ignores the chrono and slides his hand under Hikaru's shirt, wants to touch him, wants to be certain this is happening.

  
"Is this real?" he wonders, surprised at the sound coming from his lips and Hikaru kisses him again. A sharp pain draws him back from his thoughts, brings reality crisply into focus. Hikaru pulls away with a smile and Jim tastes copper. His heart is beating in his chest and yeah, fuck yeah, it is real, crazy and amazing and incredibly real. Jim's breath comes heavy, and shit, he's not sure he's ever been this hard before and when Hikaru licks the red from his lips, Jim pounces.  
Somehow, they end up on the ground, kissing and biting and moaning, half naked, their clothes torn and haphazardly discarded into the scenery. Jim cries out when Hikaru's teeth sink into his shoulder, it feels so fucking good, he whimpers and begs for more and Hikaru always has to give more until Jim pulls him away by the hair panting heavily. He can see his shoulder turn red and purple and he knows this is going to hurt oh so good for days. The kiss that follows is almost clumsy, their teeth click together, but that's the fucking beauty of it. Jim smiles into the kiss when Hikaru reaches into his pocket because he knows, he *knows* he'll find lube there.

  
"What if I said 'no'?" He's smiling and yeah, Jim had plenty of doubt, but that's in the past.

  
"Can't think that way," he busies himself with Hikaru's pants, "too good to give up," he pushes them down and Hikaru definitely did not have 'no' in mind, "need you too much.Need to have you."

He's sure Hikaru knows he isn't just talking about the sex. He needs whatever indefinable thing they have, needs it like burning, like air. The noises Hikaru makes when Jim presses two slicked fingers into him are divine and he's not sure how he made it ten days without them. Ten days and it feels like it has been ten years and he savours the moment before he slides into Hikaru. The heat, Hikaru's breath against his ear, Hikaru's legs wrapped around his waist, fingers clawing at his back, teeth scraping, biting his neck and shoulders. Jim's lost in it and above all, he's lost in Hikaru, his mind, his heart, his soul, he's so lost he doesn't care. It's almost embarrassing how short they last, how quickly Jim is pushed over the edge and how fast Hikaru follows, cock completely untouched. Jim's head is swimming for a while, like his synapses have to reorganize. Hikaru's eyes are closed as he's leaning against the tree, breathing heavily and Jim just leans into him, wants to be close. He whimpers at the loss when they untangle their limbs, he could stay like this forever: just Hikaru and him and nothing else matters. His neck stings and he tilts his head to the side to give Hikaru better access to finish one final mark. He can feel it blossom under Hikaru's lips and teeth and tongue and unlike before, it isn't going straight to his dick, but washes over him like a soothing touch.

  
"Mine." Hikaru says and trails his fingers over the mark, looking impressed with himself. "Always mine." He looks at Jim and nods like it's a point that needs to be driven home.

  
"Yeah," Jim leans his forehead against Hikaru's.

  
"Do I get my old quarters back?" Hikaru smirks.

  
"Gave them to Pavel, sorry," Jim shrugs, "maybe he'll trade you."

  
"Fuck you, you didn't."

  
"Mhm, when we get back to our ship." Jim kisses Hikaru, tastes him and playfully nips at his lip. "Haven't touched them. Haven't even gone in since you left."

  
"We'll rectify that," another kiss, "wasn't fair for me to leave like that."

  
"Past now." Jim helps Hikaru straighten his torn shirt. It doesn’t really look any better.

  
"Can I tell you a secret?"

  
"Yeah of course."

  
"I never accepted the position." Hikaru looks down and Jim pauses for a beat.

  
"You're an asshole, Hikaru Sulu." He wants to be mad, but the thought that Hikaru sat on this station for ten days waiting for him… waiting. For him.

  
"Yeah, but I'm your asshole."

  
"Mhm."

  
When Jim and Hikaru return to the ship, clothes torn, body covered in marks and scratches, no one says a word. Most simply hide their smiles. Bones gives a lecture on excessive contusions and those refusing to allow them to be healed. Other than that, the ship quickly returns to business as usual. Jim sinks into the Captain's chair for Alpha shift and looks ahead to the view screen, Hikaru and Pavel at the helm. He turns to look at Spock and feels his neck and shoulder twinge, from the corner of his eye; he sees a smile play around Hikaru's lips. Things aren't perfect, but he finally knows he's come home.

  
Fin.


End file.
